


Forgive Me

by ntlpurpolia



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fighting, Firefighters, Forgiveness, every f-word ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 12:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntlpurpolia/pseuds/ntlpurpolia
Summary: Vic decides to talk to Lucas. Takes place after 2x11.





	Forgive Me

Vic is fuming. Just—she feels furious enough, heated enough to start a dozen fires with her gaze alone. And that's not good, partly because she’s a firefighter, but also because… this is dumb. Ripley is being dumb!

He is the one who started telling people about them, started telling his family about them. Who is he to then berate her for doing the same thing? She and Travis arent just best friends, they’re family. The whole station is the only family she has.

So, yeah. This whole fight feels pretty dumb to her.

“Vic?” Maya looks over to her, sliding a shot glass over the bar counter to her. It’s filled with a clear liquid that’s definitely not water—vodka, maybe? “You okay? You seem kinda… lost in thought.”

Vic forces herself to grin and mutter something that brushes the blonde woman off. After all, she’s the one who wanted to come out tonight and find a new place to drink and dance and generally have a good time away from it all. Away from station 19, the opposite of the crappy diner with its stale bagels and lukewarm coffee that was almost ‘their place’—no. Stop thinking about him, Hughes! How hard is that to do?

Harder than it seems, apparently. Next to her, Andy is alternating between staring at her wine glass and gazing, half-forlorn and half-shocked, at Ryan and his date, Jenna or Jessica or something. Maya distractedly pulls out her phone from her purse and then puts it back, repeating the action multiple times like she’s trying to decide whether or not to call someone. Or checking for a call but trying to convince herself that she doesn’t want to get one. Both of them seem to have an awkward vibe that stretches to envelop her in an equally awkward bubble. Either way, none of them seem to be having a good time tonight, which isn’t the goal of this outing at all.

So Vic does a dumb thing. Makes a dumb choice. She stands up, not just on the tiled floor, but on top of the bar counter, and tries to inject some much-needed energy into the room and the whole atmosphere. Her two friends immediately look up, and quite a few heads swivel in their direction—some male, and some definitely appraising her. Vic cups her hands to her mouth and tries to think of something to say, but she realizes she has no idea what she wants. Actually, she does know.

She wants Lucas. She wants to be chilling in her bed with him and maybe some crappy reruns of E.R. or General Hospital or some other medically inaccurate show. She wants to lie next to him and run her hands through his hair, not having sex but just being with him. She wants to feel the rise and fall of his breaths against her cheek as she rests her head on his chest. She wants to do ridiculous, cliche, couple-y things but she can’t, because he’s being dumb, and—

“Vic?” Maya switches to being concerned about her, and rightfully so. “Are you okay?”

“I—ah, yeah.” She awkwardly, sheepishly gets back down, glad she’s wearing pants so she won’t flash anyone. “Totally. I just... no, I’m not. I’ve been…” and heck, two people at the station already know. What’s the harm in one more? “I’ve been dating this guy and we kinda had a fight recently and I’m here trying to get him off my mind but I really can’t…”

She rushes all of that out in one breath and still has room for more, firefighter training apparently useful in all aspects of life like for having conversations like this one. A conversation that is one sided and more like a confession.

“Maybe you should talk to him?” Andy suggests softly, putting a hand on her forearm, warm brown eyes directed towards her and her back to Ryan for the first time all night. “I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”

“You didn’t talk to Ryan,” Vic points out.

“He’s on a date,” Maya pointed out, sticking up for Andy. “She can’t really—i mean, Andy doesn’t care about Ryan, right? They’re just… thinging or whatever. But it’s casual. It could happen again. It might not. But Andy doesn’t care if it happens or not, right?”

Maya’s words are uncharacteristically… emotional? She seems more moved than when she was talking to the baby today, at least. Vic senses there are secrets waiting to explode out of her. She can relate, and makes another dumb decision.

“You’re right. I’m just.. I’ll let you two sort out that weird thing you have going on, or whatever, and I’ll talk to him. Right now,” she adds before she can lose her resolve.

She calls an Uber, hops in and gives Lucas’s address without thinking. The car gets there before she can to decide whether or not to text him that she’s coming over, and she pays the guy before darting onto the porch of his modest bungalow.

When she knocks and gets no response, she sucks in a breath and uses the key that he always leaves under the mat—the hiding place she’d teased him for. Vic unlocks the door before replacing the key and stepping into the house.

“Hi,” she says when she finds him standing right in front of her.

“I was going to get it,” he says, and then her eyes drop from his face to see that he’s in only a towel. “Sorry, I was in the shower.”

Sorry. An easy thing for him to apologize for this, for making her wait. But it’s apparently not as easy for him to apologize for other things. Real things. Things that actually hurt her. The word subordinate flashes in her mind, rings in her ears, and she inwardly flinches.

“That’s fine.” She hangs her purse on the hook by the wall, the place it’s used to taking now these past months. Or on the floor during nights that they can’t keep their hands off of each other long enough to properly put anything away. Vic wants more than anything for this to be one of those nights, especially staring at him right now, half-naked. But they can’t.

“Did you want something, Hughes?” He's in the kitchen now, wet hair dripping on the linoleum.

You. Us. To fix this. She startles for a second before realizing he’s talking about a drink or food or something. Victoria shakes her head. “I’m fine.” It feels like a lie. Since when has she had trouble yelling at him, talking back? Maybe since she started caring about him and his opinion. “Actually—actually, I’m not fine. You hurt me today when you called me your subordinate today. That really hurt.”

He stops halfway through pouring a glass of something golden-brown in a tumbler. “I know, and I’m sorry, Victoria.”

He drops those words out there. She blinks at him, surprised.

“I didn't—“ he takes a gulp of the liquid, and she inadvertently watches him swallow. “You’re not my subordinate. professionally, yes. But… you and your friends aren’t less than me or worse. They’re not… I know they’re your family. You’re not less than me. You’ve never been worse or inferior to me and I’ve never viewed you as that. I’ve never been ashamed of us. You are my equal.

“I’m sorry that I lashed out at you. But… When Montgomery told me he knew about us… it was my first reaction. For the longest time, all I’ve had is my job. I was married and divorced twice before, and I… it was because I worked too much, yes. But after that, I just focussed all my attention on my career. The thought of losing that was scary to me. But now… now losing you would hurt so much more. Can you forgive me, Victoria?”

He puts down his glass, which is now empty, and looks at her like he’s moments from dropping on his knees and not in a sexual way.

She looks down at him, and wonders at how he’s read her mind and how he’s real. How he manages to read all the insecurities running through her head and soothe all of them. There’s really only one way to respond to that, frankly.

Vic walks over to him, unzipping her jacket, and takes his hand, as he gets up. She undresses quickly and efficiently as her pulse thrums, and pushes his towel off as he lifts her onto the counter and kisses her deeply.

They break apart for air. “Does that mean I’m forgiven, then?”

She grins at him, a real smile this time. “Just shut up and kiss me, Chief.”


End file.
